


Water Sang Under the Tongue

by hedgerowhag



Series: Through the Forest Down to Your Grave [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, It's just filth, M/M, Riding, Rimming, Spit As Lube, filth and slavic aesthetics, no weird tags apply this time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:46:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6883960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgerowhag/pseuds/hedgerowhag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Am I asleep again?” whispers Kylo, watching pale legs swing from the nook of the thick branch and crossing over under the hem of a soaked shift. </p><p>“I am afraid not,” says the man, smiling slyly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water Sang Under the Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> nobody asked for this but i did it anyway
> 
> i hope everyone can appreciate the innuendo of the title, it's from [this poem](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/browse?contentId=42024)  
> big thank you to [nereid-lilies](http://nereid-lilies.tumblr.com/) for listening to me ramble about mermaids and starting #SwampFuck2k16
> 
> EDIT: i think that i wrote this while extremely drunk. im redediting everything. if anyone has any questions you would actually like me to answer, please get hold of me on [tumblr](http://beeeeebeeee.tumblr.com/)

A month has passed and summer is at its greatest height.

In this season, the day never seems to set to sleep; even as the velvet lilac haze sets over the sky the sunlight clings to linger if only for just a little longer, setting the land in a never ending twilight. The heat continues to hang in the air - stifled by the humid veils that rise from the rivers and marshes.

It is silent in the settlings in those scarce moments of darkness as the village workers slumber in the cool respite. Into the dark hands of sleep they sink while the forest birds continue their talks and the wild forest streams run through the earth, disturbing the ground with their low songs.

Though in the length of the day Kylo had been able to escape the labour of work he still seeks the tender chill of the night. He takes to his silence on the brink of the forest, just by the village pastures, where a slow river runs under the crooked birches on the edge of the green pools of the swamps – the glass clear stream overflown from the recent rains that came before the broad blue skies.

Beneath the low, thick branches of an old birch Kylo sits, his back pressed against its curve that spans half the width of his shoulders, his bare feet are tangled in the dewy grass blades that cool his heated skin. Sighing into the feeling, he allows his eyes to slowly close as he drifts into a doze, sleep gripping tighter and tighter about him.

A faint rustle flutters through the thickets of the forest.

Perhaps it is one of the village children that took to their games in the woods. Kylo casts ignorance to the disturbance, listening to the river stream gurgle about the roots of the trees and the mounds of sunken grass.

A wet sound breaks against the smooth curve of a tree root. A whisper as the foliage of a tree is stirred by something in the branches.

Kylo frowns, but it ignores it again. As silence returns he feels himself begin to doze, lulled by the sound of the water and the breeze.

Not a moment of peace Kylo is given before he hears the marauder again – above him, somewhere in the branches, there is a giggle as faint as a tremble in the air.

“Go away,” mutters Kylo, sleep hazed. “Leave me in peace.”

Another laugh, perhaps a little closer this time. “But I want to be here.”

Kylo’s eyes snap open, briefly blind in the darkness. Looking up into the shadowed branches of the gnarled birch, silvery on the flag of the purple sky, he sees pale, amused eyes peer down onto him, like two disks of the absent moon.

Kylo gathers himself to his feet, stumbling into the bank of the river where the shallow slope is swollen by water. There is another flutter of laughter as Kylo stares at the pale figure nestled on a low branch of the birch, tangled in veils of lace like cobwebs.

“Am I asleep again?” whispers Kylo, watching pale legs swing from the nook of the thick branch and crossing over under the hem of a soaked shift that is veined by faint embroidery. 

“I am afraid not,” says the man, smiling slyly. The cover of lace is slipping from over the man’s head – a false covering of modesty – revealing the damp locks of copper-red hair, tangled with the blossoms of ox-eye daisies and blue jewels of forget-me-nots.

There can be no mistake, it is the same creature that tempted Kylo the night he became lost on his wanderings in the woods, the same creature that welcomed him so sweetly into his flesh. After he woke up amidst the pines, alone and taken by the cold, Kylo had been unsure if what he had witnessed was a delusion of his tired mind or reality. But here is the proof.

Now, however, Kylo sees the truth of the creature; there is no ethereal glow emitting from the man’s skin and in the twilight murk he can see the green bruising on the flesh of a dead pallor and the unnatural milky haze of the green eyes.

A hand reaches out from beneath the shrouds, palm skyward, the fingers curling. “Come closer,” the man beckons, his voice like a whisper of the leaves.

Kylo obeys. With slow strides he approaches the tree, eyes fixed on the unearthly creature as he leans his arms on the low branch beside where the stranger sits. The edge of the lace is caught on a curl of the peeling bark and carefully, Kylo plucks it with his fingers, feeling the scratch of the patterning on his skin. The green of the lake bloom clinging onto the white, and as Kylo takes in both of his hands, pressing it against his face, he can smell the still water.

Shyly, Kylo looks up, the lace still clutched in his hands, and he sees the red lips smile, white teeth baring.

“I am truly awake,” Kylo mutters, his limbs feel heavy as if he has been unspooled – pulled free like a string.

The man smiles broader. “Yes, yes you are awake,” he says and reaches out a pale hand to tangle it in Kylo’s hair, scratching his nails against his scalp, pulling him closer. Kylo goes without resistance, chasing the cool touch, closing his eyes as he sighs.

Chilled skin bumps against Kylo’s cheek and he presses against it, feeling the soft flesh of the stranger’s thigh through the cloth. He pushes closer against it, wrapping his hands around a slim calf, trailing his fingers to the sharp knee, faltering briefly before hitching up the linen gown. The skin is as pale as he remembers to be, just as smooth when he runs his fingers over it.

There is a tug on his hair as the man pulls him closer. Leaning in, Kylo presses a kiss against the creamy skin of the thigh.

As Kylo continues to lavish the skin with kisses that are chased by his tongue, the hand that was tangled in his hair travels down towards his neck, playing with the small hairs on his nape before moving further under his tunic. The hand maps circles between his shoulders before dragging nails across the skin and scoring red lines that burn and ache.

Kylo gasps at the pain. He returns the gesture by pushing in between the legs of the creature and biting down against the fragile expanse of an inner thigh. But it only yields him laughter, followed by a moan of pleasure as he deepens the bite.

When he releases there is a bruise blossoming in the shape of Kylo’s mouth, small red lines where his teeth pressed. He kisses and licks at it, tasting copper on his tongue. Wanting more, Kylo pushes up the white gown, kissing the skin that becomes exposed. Glancing up Kylo sees that the man is already aroused; his thighs are flushed and his cock is beginning to harden.

Kylo presses forward to take it in his mouth, but he is quickly halted by hands on his shoulders pushing him away. Kylo stumbles and steps back.

The man rearranges his gown and slips from the branch. The shroud of lace becomes discarded to the grass, leaving the man bare save for the burial clothing that is slipping off his shoulders. Hands draw down to take the edge of the clothing and slowly trail it up – dangerously close to exposing him entirely.

“Do you want me, Kylo?” asks the man, smiling, the name ringing on his tongue – though it is unknown how he has come about it.

“Yes, I do,” Kylo whispers breathlessly.

“Then take me.”

The steps between them seems like no space at all as Kylo grasps the red-haired man in his arms and presses his teeth to the neck as his hands pull up the gown and palm at the man’s ass, pressing him closer. Up his lips travel from the circle of bruising that chokes the neck, to the jaw and the chin, to the cheeks and then the lips – biting, sucking, licking.

They pause and pull apart, both panting and flushed. Kylo smiles at the sight of the confused glassy look that is caught in the red-head’s eyes.

There is a blue flower falling from the rust coloured hair and he catches it by the stem, holding it between them. Pale fingers curl around his own before tentative lips catch Kylo’s again – softer, gentler, but no less wanting.

The blossom falls away and Kylo presses his prize against the tree. A leg is hooked around his hip and Kylo takes it, scratching his nails over the flesh as they kiss again. But it does not last long; Kylo breaks away from the kiss and falls to his knees before the man. He glances up at the other, watching the narrow chest rise and fall with heaving breaths as teeth bite kiss reddened lips.

There is a sharp gasp when Kylo unbalances the man and with a quick movement slings the slim legs around his shoulders, the red-head’s back pressed against the tree.

“What are you—.” The words are choked off with a gasp when Kylo pulls up the white tattered and soaked gown and holds the thighs further apart, exposing the red-haired man. He does not touch yet, only admires all of the skin he has yet to taste.

And then he presses in, the flat of his tongue drawing over the entrance and up. He moans when he feels hands clutch at his head, trying to push him in in in. But Kylo only teases, taking to the milky thighs and scraping his teeth against the tender skin, allowing the faint shivers of his breath to brush against the man’s aching cock. But no – never daring to touch.

When finally, finally his arms begin to ache and heels dig into his back, Kylo allows the tip of his tongue to circle around the entrance and then he pushes in, managing a smirk when he hears the exhaled whimper of pleasure. He draws out again, curling his tongue and allowing it to catch on the rim and there is a whine, a sharp tug on his hair.

With the feeling of mercy, Kylo complies and pushes in once more, feeling the muscles strain around his tongue as he curls it and pushes against the soft walls. He is pushed against the red-haired man so impossibly close he can hardly breathe and he knows that he cannot hold him for long, but this does not stop him from abusing the soft insides with the roughness of his tongue until— ah! Finally.

The man chokes on a cry, muffling it with a fist pressed against his mouth as his eyes close tightly and his legs enclose around Kylo, drawing him in deeper. Kylo continues to lap that single spot as spit trails down over his chin and drips down onto his chest, his hands bruising the pale thighs that he holds apart.

“Enough, enough!” comes the breathless words as Kylo is pushed away, falling back onto his hands as feet thump onto the ground. “Get on with it,” says the pale creature as he glares down at Kylo, face flushed so deeply it is even visible in the haze of the dark. There is sweat slipping over his bruise ringed neck, pooling on the collar bone and Kylo tastes it when he stands and licks over the pale column.

“Please,” mutters the other. “Please…” the words trail away, incomplete. But Kylo knows the meaning of the request as he turns the red-haired man around and presses them together, chest to back, against the birch. He rakes up the gown, running his nails over the skin while with the other hand he holds the man’s jaw, pushing his head back.

“Tell me your name,” Kylo demands. “What do I call you?” he breathes against that vulnerable nook between shoulder and neck.

What he gains is defiant silence so he withdraws the hand clutching the sharp hip bone and scrapes his fingernails over the flushed rear before coming to touch the crevice of heated skin and reaching down. Kylo circles his middle finger around the entrance, listening to the man’s whimpering before plunging two fingers inside. A stifled moan, the pale back curving – begging.

“Tell me your name,” Kylo says through his teeth. His hand slips from the red-head’s jaw and the pale brow thumps against the stalk of the tree as moans continue to flow under the assault of pleasure. Kylo withdraws his fingers and pushes back in with three in one go – far too much and brimming onto painful but the other does not complain.

“How do I know what name to cry as you draw pleasure from me?” Kylo whispers again the red-head’s ear.

The man freezes, his body shivering. Slowly, he shifts his head to face Kylo and reaches around to pull him by the hair, drawing him into a slow kiss.

But it is all a ploy; as Kylo relaxes into the touch he is suddenly pushed away and thrown down onto the ground before a weight presses over him.

Laughter rings in the warm night air. Gathering his bearings, Kylo stares up and above him he sees the pale face, smiling brightly as the laughter lingers in the air like the sound of the running river.

Soft hands take his jaw and a chaste kiss is pressed to his lips. His hands come to rest on the hips of the slighter man, allowing them a moment of respite.

Again, the moment is broken as the kiss ends and the man leans back, sitting across Kylo’s lap, his ass pressed against Kylo’s groin, eliciting a whine from Kylo as he remembers his own ache.

“Enough then,” the red-haired one grins. Leaning back, he grasps for the ties that hold Kylo’s trousers and pulls them apart. Kylo hisses when the rough cloth drags over the heated, sensitive skin of his cock.

Biting his lip, the man reaches down and grasps the hard length, pumping it and spreading the wetness of the precum. Groaning, Kylo shifts his hips up, chasing the tight hold of the fingers, but it loosens as the red-head holds himself over Kylo’s length, his actions hidden by the white linen of his gown.

Kylo chokes on a moan when he feels the tip of his cock breach the spit slicked entrance. The other has to briefly halt, steadying himself against Kylo’s chest before pressing down further, feeling the girth slide inside of him until he meets the hilt. Kylo grabs onto the slim hips, pushing up further until the red-haired man grasps and falls against Kylo, whimpering when Kylo cannot hold back the shallow thrusts.

Kylo grasps the man, holding him close as he bends his knees and pushes upwards. He takes pleasure in just the sensation of the warmth as he kisses the neck of the trembling man in his arms, breathing against his skin, filling his chest with the smell of the wild running waters.

Suddenly the red-haired man escapes his hold and takes his hands, pressing them at them down beside his head before leaning back against Kylo’s bent legs and using them as leverage as his rises in his lap. The slam of hips draws whimper from both of them as a steady rhythm is formed. As the other takes control all that is left for Kylo to do is watch the slim pale figure contort in pleasure, chasing his own ecstasy from the friction. Kylo reaches out to take the man in hand, but his attempt is quickly batted away with a scowl of distaste as the man grinds down into his lap, letting any coherent thoughts melt from Kylo’s mind.

In slow, deep circles the hips work on Kylo’s cock, languid thrusts drawing him in and out from the tight, warm body. He is not allowed to control the direction of this moment, so Kylo is forced to clutch at the grass beneath him to stop his hands from grasping at the ethereal figure that plays on his lap like a summer crazed nymph – perhaps that is what he is, not a demon sent to elicit his sins.

Finally, the pale hands take his own and place the wide palms on the narrow hips, where they are allowed scratch and caress the skin beneath the hiked up gown. Kylo takes the ass of the other man in his hands, spreading it apart before dipping fingers down and feeling where they are locked – pressing in only barely.

There is a strained gasp from above Kylo as the red-head falters in his movements before taking a single downward thrust, grinding into Kylo’s lap and falling apart, trembles – collapsing onto Kylo with heavy pants.

Still aching, Kylo holds the other, waiting for the shivers to subside before he deems it time to swiftly shift them, throwing the limp form of the copper haired man to the dewy grass, admiring the haze of lust glow in his star-lit eyes.

Kylo presses tender kisses to the collar bone as he braces the lax thighs around his hips before working himself back inside the sensitive entrance as the other mewls. He starts a pace that jolts the man beneath him, shaking the legs that are lifted up into the air, gasps beaten out of his chest with every pound against him. It almost becomes erratic as Kylo loses himself, his back bowed and head resting on the pale chest and then— he falls apart, buried deep inside the other man.

Briefly, Kylo feels numb; his limbs are not entirely his own and as air ratchets through his chest he cannot control the heaving. Slowly as he returns to himself, he begins to feel the hands palming across his back and up his neck, to his hair by which he is pulled down into an askew embrace as the wetness pools between them.

They breathe together, slowly falling away from the haze of pleasure, the sweat clinging to their skin in the heat of the summer night. Eventually Kylo is able to dislodge himself, making a half-hearted attempt of bringing himself into order as he falls onto the grass beside the other, the river gurgling just above his head.

The red-haired man makes no attempt to gain an inkling of his modesty – what remains of his clothes is in utter disarray. In this state he lifts himself up, the last of the flowers in his hair falling away, and slings himself over Kylo, peering down at him with amused pale eyes as an arm wraps around his waist.

“Hux,” the man says.

Kylo stares at him confused.

“That is the name by which you may call me.”

“Oh,” slips softly past Kylo’s lips and then they are claimed by ones that are cool and soft.

It comes sluggishly to Kylo’s mind but he knows what the man – _Hux_ – is doing; he feels the haze began to creep over his mind as his hands begin to slip from the slim waist that he holds, he can feel his lips become numb as they are bitten teasingly.

“No— no, stop…” he tries, labouring the words in his weak rage; he will not be taken advantage of in such a way again. “I don’t want—.” Kylo is hushed with the press of a finger to his lips.

“I would take you as my own,” says Hux. “I would take you to the waters, where we could be together, but how could I steal something like you from the world.” An unhurried, open mouthed kiss is shared between them as Kylo struggles against sleep, trying to cling onto the sight of Hux above him as the man leans back, his hair like burnished copper even in the dying light of the lilac sky amongst the silvery birches.

“Please,” whispers Kylo but the world is black.

 

 

The sun laps warm on his skin, shifting as the shadows of the leaves flutter. The water hushes and murmurs on the flooded banks of the river, lapping back and forth.

Consciousness is slow to retake Kylo, hazily drifting into his limbs as he discovers himself lying on the grass, staring ahead at the jewels of the blue sky peeking through the branches. Wincing against the light, he covers his eyes with his hands.

It had all been a dream once more – a trick of his own mind, though it all had seemed to be of this reality, so solid beneath his hands. But how else can he explain the tempting creature of a deathly appearance that seduced him?

Yes, it had all been a dream. Nothing else.

Besides, there is not a sign of the occurrence on his body; there are no scored lines of red, not a sign of his own pleasure but the sweat that can be blamed on the heat of the prior day.

Just a dream.

Kylo stands to his feet, tasting stale spit in his mouth, his skull aches. His legs are weak as he stumbles across the grass, catching himself against a tree when his bare feet tangle about something on the ground.

Unable to dislodge it, he kicks at the pest – cursing.

However, as he looks down, he words halt.

Around his ankles there are tangles of lace, the white tainted at the edges by the green of the lake bloom. It shimmers pale in the morning light amongst the blue and white blossoms that are scattered about the grass.

 

 

 

 


End file.
